North American Hurricane (Hetalia)
Author: Ashynarr
Summary: In the same vein as Bunnies For Your Amusement, I now bring you my collection of oneshots and short stories featuring the North American twins, America and Canada! Now including non-LJ drabbles.
Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.
Warning: Random Shit, Bros Being Bros, Canonverse, Preview, FEELS
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Alfred wakes up short of breath, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he tries to remember where he is. There's a soft mattress under him and familiar sheets over him, and he relaxes as he realizes he's in his bed.
It was just a nightmare. Just an unfortunate case of pre-wedding jitters; most people get them, right?
The bed beside him is cold and empty. Maybe Mattie's got cold feet too, because this is a big deal for both of them, and so he's gotten up to do something to distract himself. It wouldn't be the first time. The calendar beyond doesn't have the wedding day checked off, another sign that he was just far too worked up over all of this.
(Besides, there's no way Arthur would-)
He pushes himself up, yawning and stretching, and tilts his head with a smile as he hears noise coming from downstairs - the kitchen. Mattie was making coffee, was he? Maybe today was special enough to even warrant some of those lovely chocolate chip pancakes before they got ready to head out for their big day.
Glancing to the time - 6:45, plenty early - he rolls his shoulders once before maneuvering himself out of bed, remembering to make it behind him even if he was sure it'd be more than a bit messed up after they got back from the reception. Stumbling his way to the bathroom - because while he could see without his glasses, he was still half-asleep from the nightmares - he emerged about fifteen minutes later much more awake and refreshed, smiling as he pondered the day to come.
(In less than twelve hours he'd be in here again, but with a husband instead of a boyfriend, and that word alone sent a wave of warmth through him.)
Walking back over to his bed, he picked up his glasses and put them on, focusing through them on the picture of himself and Mattie on their one-year-dating anniversary, almost face to face as they laughed over some long forgotten joke. Alfred took in the crinkle of his boyfriend's eyes, the wide carefree grins they shared, and felt himself smiling as well.
(God, he loved Mattie so much, and knew Mattie loved him just as much-)
Humming a tune he couldn't name off the top of his head, he went over to the cabinet to pull out a shirt, putting it on before he finally felt ready to leave the room.
(And why did it feel like he was missing something? Had he remembered to leave the suits hanging somewhere they could air out? Maybe the wedding bands? What about-)
He stops at the top of the stairs, taking a whiff of the scent of something pleasant drifting up from down below, and wonders what his boyfriend is making, because it's not waffles or pancakes, but it's certainly familiar… ah well, he'll find out soon enough.
When he peers into the kitchen, though, he finds it isn't Matthew at all, but Toris, putting about as he finishes up what Alfred vaguely recalls is one of the dashes he liked to make way back when he lived with him. Which isn't completely odd - Toris had in town for the wedding as well, and him coming over to say hi before everything would be a very Toris thing to do - but it begs the question, if Mattie isn't here, then where is he?
(Why wasn't he here, with him…?)
And Toris, by chance, looks over at him at that moment, eyes wide and panicked before he slams all of it down behind a smile. "Oh, Mr. America, I didn't hear you come down."
"Where's Mattie?" Alfred asks, ignoring the coiling in his gut, pre-wedding jitters, because there's no way-
(-It was just a nightmare-)
"I made some breakfast for you, and some coffee, since I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be-"
"Where's Mattie?" He repeats more forcefully.
Toris' thin facade of normalcy breaks then, his entire body slumping where he stood, gaze flickering down and away for a long, choking moment before he dared to look up again. Alfred refused to recognize it as guilt, as pity, because-
"I'm so sorry."
No. No no no no nononononononono-
He didn't know when he started backing away, but between one blank second and the next he was running, out the door past another person, not knowing or caring where he was going so long as it was away from his thoughts-
(Not that he could escape what was already gnawing at him from the inside, sucking away the warmth and joy in him and leaving a hollow pit in his gut-)
("Does anyone object to these two being lawfully wed? Speak now, or forever-"
"I do."
"Arthur?"
"-I have always-"
"-but what about-"
"-think about us. About you."
"...I will.")
(Mattie- Mattie- Mattie-)
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AN: You know how I have this policy of not writing fics that hurt the feels too much? Generally leaning towards fluffy happy times? Well that's because when I want to write angst, I want to write angst that makes you want to cry so hard you can't even believe. And, of course, this is just the preview to the full fic I have planned for the nearish future. Enjoy~